Notes: Thank you all again for the follows and favorites! Now, thanks to my friend on here, Stacey (Deadtom77) for reviewing both of the chapters so far and also thanks to Phoenixflames12 who reviewed again:) I'm really happy that you guys liked my portrayal of (the very drunken) Amis last chapter. No Amis this time, but don't worry, they'll be back. In this chapter we get more E/É time, and we get more characterization. I'll shut up now, and let you get to reading. I hope you enjoy!:)
BARRICADE
CHAPTER III
The bell above the door of Shakespeare and Company rings cheerily, announcing the arrival of a customer. Enjolras enters, arms filled once again with his work. "Éponine?" he whispers. The shop is empty, save for the books, and it seems to be the sort of place that demands quiet.
"Monsieur?" A man with a shock of white hair and bushy eyebrows steps out from behind a tower of books. "My name is George Whitman; I am the proprietor of this shop. May I help you?" he asks Enjolras in accented French.
"I'm looking for Mademoiselle Éponine," replies Enjolras, glancing towards the corner of the shop where she had been sitting before, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of her scribbling in that black notebook with the tidy stack of books at her side.
Whitman regards Enjolras suspiciously from beneath the mass of his eyebrows; then something seems to click. "Oh! You are that student who was in here the other day! Jean-Paul Sartre, was it not?"
Enjolras nods. "Yes, I believe I spoke with one of your workers…"
"Yes, yes, that was Éponine Thénardier." All of a sudden Whitman looked slightly worried. "Listen, boy, you mustn't be too harsh on her, she isn't used to working with the customers. I was busy and so she was left to—"
"Monsieur Whitman, Éponine was perfectly fine. I just wanted to see her again."
At that statement Whitman's entire demeanor changed, his highly expressive eyebrows leading the charge. "Oh, is that so, young man? And does she wish to see you again?"
Enjolras shrugs, biting his lip. "I don't know, monsieur. That's what I came to find out."
Whitman appraises Enjolras for a few moments. "Now, you listen to this, young man," he says; though he is of no relation to Éponine he has come to regard her as a second daughter. "Éponine has seen a great deal in her life. Good and bad. She has a bright future and she does not need you coming in to ruin that."
"Monsieur, I won't hurt her, I swear." Enjolras's eyes are slightly worried, intimidated by this American man with dominating eyebrows and an overwhelming protection of Éponine.
Whitman laughs long and hard at that; his laugh is deep-throated and earth-shaking—Enjolras only grows more and more apprehensive. "You…hurt…Éponine?" Whitman chokes out. "Hah! That would never happen. Éponine can take care of herself. I am far more worried about her hurting you."
Enjolras's eyebrows knit themselves into furrows almost as deep as Whitman's brow. "Éponine…hurting me? What do you—" At that precise moment Éponine walks around a bookshelf to the front of the shop, nose buried in a book. She has on glasses today that make her eyes look preternaturally large, and her hair is in a braid down her back. Enjolras finds that he really likes her glasses, and has a bit of trouble with breathing.
"Monsieur Whitman, I have a question…" She looks up and sees Enjolras. Internally, she suffers a miniature heart attack, but the only outward evidence she displays is the miniscule widening of her eyes.
"Mademoiselle," says Enjolras, nodding his head politely. He catches the look in Éponine's eyes, and is suddenly worried.
Éponine jerks her head towards Whitman, only looking at Enjolras out of the corner of her eye. "Monsieur Whitman," she hisses. "What is he doing here?"
"He…" Whitman seems at a loss for what to do. "He says he wishes to see you." He shrugs in confusion.
Éponine takes a deep breath, then turns awkwardly to Enjolras. "I regret to say that I cannot see you. Good day, Monsieur Enjolras," she says formally, the statement accompanied with a stiff bow. Éponine turns and rushes out of the shop, leaving Enjolras staring after her in equal parts disappointment, shock and wonder.
"I told you she might hurt you," shrugs Whitman. "Éponine…Éponine is not like most girls. Well, she isn't like most people in general. She learned very early what pain is, and I believe that she hid herself from others to avoid the pain."
Enjolras nods slowly. "Yes, she hid herself very, very well."
Notes: Again, I know it's short, but I tend to end the chapter whenever the thought ends :P Don't worry, they'll get longer (I think 0_0) Thank you all for reading this—but I have one request:) Some of you followed/favorited this story or followed/favorited me, but didn't review. I really appreciate it, but reviews are really helpful, both as motivation and to let me know what you guys think of the story and what you like and what you don't. So I would really love it if you would review as well. Thanks:)